Cigarette Porn
by Cozzybob
Summary: Duo smokes. It's the ultimate act of voyeurism, really.


**Cigarette Porn**

Rated: R

Pair: 1x2

Warning: slash, cigarette smoking, language.

Note: Written as a thank you to Link Worshiper for hosting some of my fics on her site!

Summary: Duo smokes. It's the ultimate act of voyeurism, really.

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Blue ghosts curl from the end of an orange-tipped cigarette as Duo lets it hang between two fingers, staring on forlornly out the mouth of the rain-driven alley. I watch him from the window of my office, cursing the clock as he stands there under the safety of the roof overhang, looking both desolate and bored at the same time. Duo glances at me once, and I casually turn away, pretending to be invested in my work. I can feel his eyes boring into the side of my skull, and I know he's amused because his smile whispers into the shell of my ear, echoing the dark promises his voice had promised only hours earlier over the phone. This charade between us lasts five terrible minutes, and I read nothing the monitor tells me while I fret, screaming stoically not to give in, not to encourage him further in his random acts of torment. I know what a bored Duo is capable of.

My fists ball themselves into steel. Naturally I can't help but look back at him, moth to the flame of his ever-burning eyes. He ensnares me, and, yes, he's grinning wide and dangerous. He snaps his teeth at me like a wild beast snapping at the fool who dares to tame him, and then he looks away with a shrug. His entire pose echoes that he couldn't care less, but I know better. I know he's listening to the infuriating tick of the clock just the same, I can see it in the way his fingers twitch in time to the passing seconds, counting the drum beats to life itself.

Duo drags from his cigarette, and the orange tip pulses into a hot burning yellow. Then it fades, and Duo drops the death stick away as he holds the smoke into his lungs for a moment, savoring the shot of nicotine. His eyes slip closed when the blue vapor is released, slipping from his mouth in curling, transcendent fingers. They seem to beckon me toward him, and I ache to follow their will.

The clock ticks, and it's five minutes to five. Five minutes, might as well be five years.

I glance back to the monitor helplessly, my fingers still on a waiting keyboard, but work evades what's left of my mind, Duo a vicious laughing demon wreaking havoc on my domesticity. Instead, I give up all pretense and turn back to him with a hard stare, cursing and blessing the distraction of his very presence. He's turned away, his free hand out under the heavy drizzle of rain falling from the roof's overhang. The water splatters harshly in his hand, smacking his palm in a steady stream of punishment. The cigarette is held protectively at his back when he bends over on a whim, and leans his head under the spray, and his braid slips over his shoulder like a thirsty snake reveling the rain. I can see the water slap against his skull and slide down his face in fine shimmers of wet, erotic dreams. His grin has teeth, sharpened and deadly when he knows I'm watching. He tips his head back, then, his eyes closed, and opens his mouth to swallow the water down. The fiery end of his cigarette catches the wrath of a fat raindrop and sputters out into silence when he gets too cocky. Duo curses and tosses the death stick into the flowing rainwater in frustration. He gives me a dirty look, ashamed that I witnessed his blunder, but all I can see is the water sliding down the side of his neck. My tongue salivates, and I want to taste it. The rain on Duo's skin-it's either heaven, or hell with benefits.

He shoves a hand into his tight jeans, pulls out his crumpled pack of Marlboro's. He taps it casually against two fingers, plucks the cigarette that peaks from the ripped foil to greet the lips of a black god. Duo rests the filter between sharp teeth, as he replaces the pack and hunts for his lighter. There's another grunt of frustration as he can't seem to find it, his calloused hands furiously patting his pockets, feeling the shape of each object in those ass-hugging jeans until he cups the pocket at his backside and mutters victoriously. The cigarette bounces between his teeth as he speaks, the harmless, cowboy-like pose stirring something dark within me. It churns violently when Duo flicks the lighter to life, the flame a burst of yellow light licking at the darkness of the alley. It makes his face glow with hot orange lust when he carefully cups the flame against the rain and lights the end of his cigarette, tiny puffs expelling blue ghosts from the end once more. Duo draws deeply and then releases, and gives me a casual, bored nod, satisfied his little blunder is over.

I have to give an affectionate shake of the head, and I glance at the clock in temptation. Two minutes to five.

Duo takes a deep pull, and releases a smoky grin. His dark eyes flash with promise. I remember his words-he mentioned chains.

I groan, and stand up abruptly, my hardness obvious through the pressed polyester of my pants. I ignore the stares as I punch out in haste, and greet him in the alley.

Duo glances at his watch, impressed.

"It's 4:57, Mister I'm-On-A-Tight-Schedule."

"Fuck it," I tell him, slamming him into the brick wall as I make sex with his mouth. He growls deliciously and claws at my jacket with his free hand, the cigarette flailing dangerously in the other. I rub my hardness against him, promising his own promises.

When I pull away, he pants and then tries to cover it by taking another drag of the cigarette. He speaks as the smoke is released, and I swirl my finger into the blue vapors, wondering how Duo can make such an ordinary thing seem so otherworldly and erotic. "You can't leave early," Duo says almost petulantly. "Told me yesterday. You said your boss raised hell because of three fucking minutes, remember?"

I kiss him again to shut him up. He wraps his arms around me without thought, careful of the cigarette as he melts to my touch. Another moan, another growl. "Shut up," I tell him, knowing he'll start again.

"But you said-"

Biting at his bottom lip, drawing blood. "Duo. Shut up."

"Ow! Look! It's one minute! You can still go back in and-"

I take his hand and drag him toward the car. I can't help wondering where the vibrator is-I'm going to make him scream for torturing me with his damned cigarettes. As he continues complain, I flail a careless hand and give a nod to his watch. I steal his cigarette and take a drag for myself, the rain pouring down around us in sheets.

He watches and moans.

"It's five o'clock somewhere, Duo. What difference does it make?"

We don't even make it out of the parking lot. It's no wonder, looking at this from a mature perspective, that car sex and cigarette porn has suddenly ruled my love life...

-Fini


End file.
